


When is Too Far?

by Team_Alpha_Wolf_Squadron



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Hogwarts Fourth Year, M/M, One Shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-06
Updated: 2019-06-06
Packaged: 2020-04-08 08:19:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,216
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19103290
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Team_Alpha_Wolf_Squadron/pseuds/Team_Alpha_Wolf_Squadron
Summary: Fourth year. Christmas. The Yule ball is getting steadily closer and Harry is still without a date. With the pressure getting to him, one wrong said at the wrong time might just hold the answers to his dilemma.





	When is Too Far?

"What about Lavender?" Harry listed.

"Dean asked her the other day," Hermione  said. At least she had the decency to look a little sorry for him. 

"Ginny?" He was desperate enough to consider going with her. He would face Ron's wrath. He would. He'd faced a dragon, his steadily mending friendship with Ron could be chanced so long as he wasn't standing in that hall at Christmas looking like an idiot because apparently no one wanted to go to a stupid dance with him.

If Champions weren't forced to attend he would have been spending the night holed up in his room writing to Sirius. Dances weren't exactly his thing, and with his arm in that damn sling of course people had started rejecting him when they didn't know if he would be able to dance with them or not. He was going to say it, this was the worst year of his life. Bring on Voldemort ten times over so long as he didn't have to sit here listing his steadily dwindling options on who to ask to a stupid ball.

"I think Neville asked her," Hermione announced at last. 

Second years weren't allowed to attend and anyone in Fred and George's year were bound to just laugh in his face. "I hate this. I hate it."

"I know," Hermione soothed. 

"Why couldn't we have been in first year? Why couldn't this be the year we came to Hogwarts?"

Hermione pointed out, "You'd still be champion Harry even if this was your first year."

"Then next year," he bargained. "Let Voldemort have the school. I'll just come along when I do and defeat him then. Just- why?" he was being dramatic. He knew he was being dramatic but being dramatic was the only thing helping him not cry in frustration right now because he really was going to have to suck it up and go on his own. He tilted his head onto Hermione's shoulder, "Do you really have to go with this other bloke? I'll make it good for you. We'll set up one of the tables with S.P.E.W badges, or sneak off to the restricted section. Everyone will be too busy dancing to notice we're there. Even Filch. It's the perfect crime."

He got whacked on the arm, but, unlike if Ron said it, Hermione wasn't mad at him, smiling as she demanded, "Is that all you think I do?"

"Well..." she hadn't exactly mentioned any other hobbies

"And no, sorry." He felt her shoulders get a little higher, "I really want to go with him Harry. I think it'll be nice."

Which was fair enough. "Fine, but just know I would have let you name our kids."

She hit him again, "Like hell you would have."

He put his list away for the time being, he'd have more names on it through the day. For now he was too busy packing up for lunch. Binns was still droning on as they sidled out one by one, Ron slowing down to walk beside them. "Any luck?" he sighed.

"Nope." 

"This rate we're gonna end up going with moaning Myrtle," Ron grumbled.

Hermione rounded on him, her temper, somehow, getting shorter around Ron these days, "In my opinion Myrtle wouldn't be the worst person you could end up with. And with the attitude you have right now Ronald, I doubt even she would say yes to you."

Harry stayed out of their way as Ron tried to defend himself. Something was going on between them, and Harry wasn't interested in knowing what. He had bigger problems, and until the two of them started scrapping in the corridors he didn't see why he had to put himself in Hermione's firing line. 

They were still scrapping when he ladled his plate high with potato. Then when they went to Charms. Transfiguration. They were even annoying each other when their lessons were finished and Harry was shoving his books back in his trunk. "Could you two please shut up," he snapped when Ron geared himself up to start on just why House Elves didn't mind doing their bidding. "It's alright for an hour or two, but this has been all day, so, one of you, please, change the subject."

Hexes looked to be in his future for about two minutes before Rom hesitantly asked, "Like what?"

"Like... I don't know, Quidditch, dragons, homework, anything!" Fred was right, puberty really did ruin everything. Last year none of them would have even be bothered if a girl or boy looked twice at them and now look. They were falling to pieces, and it was only going to get worse from here. "Let's just all find something neutral we can talk about and not end up arguing over for eight hours."

"It's not been eight hours," Hermione sniffed. "But fine," she agreed, shoulders slumping, "I'll look past Ron's misogynistic views about the role of a woman for now."

"Misog-"

"Hermione," Harry snapped. "Seriously?"

"I just said-"

"No, you're baiting him." Even if Harry wasn't sure exactly what misogynistic meant, and was pretty sure Ron didn't either, he knew a bait when he heard one, and, if Harry let Ron take it, they would be spending the next three days learning every inch of that word. "Now stop it, and you," he rounded on Ron, "just don't mention girls okay." God knew Harry wanted to. Ron was his only help in figuring out the names of girls in different houses, but if it meant an evening of peace, Harry would sacrifice it happily. "Okay?" he made sure.

They both nodded. Pouted, but nodded.

"Good. Now do any of you know what was written on Snape's board yesterday because I think my notes are wrong?" 

"You seriously need new glasses mate," Ron sighed, but dutifully got his notes out along with Hermione.

They worked out Snape's handwriting between the three of them. That, or all of them got it wrong and would be receiving awful marks in potions. The neutral topic had them getting along, and more since potions turned into whether Snape really was going to poison them at the end of their next brewing. Then whether Snape knew such a thing as shampoo existed and whether the twins could be bribed to send him some anonymously at christmas.

The stalemate lasted through supper, and well into breakfast the next morning before, naturally, Ron noticed some girl he'd never seen before and nudged Harry into his porridge. "Think she's single?" 

"She?" Hermione said before Harry could pick his glasses out of his breakfast. "She has a name you know Ronald.

"Well yeah," Ron said. "But I don't exactly know it right now do I? Gonna have to ask her."

"So that's it. You're just deciding to pick them when you see them? If you don't know her name how do you know..."

Harry tuned her out. He tuned both of them out. He couldn't do this again, and Ron did have a point, they really needed to get back on topic, he wasn't going to escort himself to the Yule ball. 

Ditching them, he tried chasing after a girl he hadn't even seen and ended up walking towards Defence half an hour early when he gave up. He honestly didn't know where they cropped up. He would have suspected they were the girls from the other schools had he not seen their uniforms, but somehow, someway, he always saw someone new at Hogwarts. It was probably puberty. Again. That bloody thing that kept sneaking up on him. Harry probably did know these girls, he certainly remembered hearing their names when he heard them again, but puberty had snatched them overnight and changed them from whatever form they'd been wearing before to the one rejecting him at the time.

"Hate this," he huffed, sliding down the wall to wait for the Defence classroom to open.

While magic wasn't, strictly, allowed in the corridors, no one was around to tell him off, so Harry spent a good twenty minutes practising the spells Professor Moody was having them memorise. He hoped they were duelling this year. As bad as it had ended last time, second year, snakes and everyone thinking he was a murderer, even Harry had to admit that the idea of a duelling club or even duelling practice was beneficial. Especially for someone like him that needed more than one read through and a wave of his wand to actually remember these spells.

Voices started up down the hall after another five minutes, Harry hastily hiding his wand in case it was McGonagall on one of her 'surprise' sweeps before her next Transfiguration class started. 

It wasn't. In fact, when Harry put voice to face he was almost wishing it was McGonagall, he could at least bluff his way out of house point deductions with her. Malfoy on the other hand, well, Harry deserved every point taken off him for what that weasel made him do, and he was glad for it. 

He picked his bag up, knowing from experience that Malfoy wasn't often one to attack first if he didn't have cause to. Often he would simply lounge around and talk far too loudly on things he had no real idea about until Harry snapped back at him, and most of those times Harry was able to simply ignore him. So, head down, and, for once, grateful that Ron and Hermione weren't here to inspire more ire, he did his best to ignore the calls of "lonely Potter losing all his friends."

He quieted when other students started filing in, and Moody opened up moments later which meant Harry could further run away. Hermione slipped in next to him before Harry could think to ask Neville if he wanted to be desk buddies today. She didn't look happy, and nor did Ron as he sulked his way over to the desk behind them. Something fluttered onto his head before he could ask Hermione what, now, Ron had said. Naturally Malfoy had been showing off his artistic talents again, Harry's face staring back at him being flung around by a dragon.

"Another one for the album," Harry said, sliding it over to Hermione.

"Honestly," she sighed, ripping it up for him, "I don't know why he even bothers."

"Boredom," Harry mused, knowing Malfoy, since he was at the desk next to theirs, could hear them. "Probably has nothing better to do with his day."

Hermione huffed out a short laugh as Harry heard a low snort come from his left, "Un bloody likely," was the last thing he heard before Moody called attention and told them to get their wands out. 

Finally, a decent lesson.

"Romilda?" Harry posed. After their practical attempt at a new spell they were back to studying the theory, between their pairs trying to come up with three ways to apply the spell in a real life situation. Since Harry had Hermione as his partner, they were finished in barely ten seconds. "She's a girl, right?"

"Yes," Hermione grinned, "She's a girl. And I'm afraid she's been taken too."

"Damn." He racked his brains for any other girl names he knew. He hadn't time yesterday to overhear people at the great hall yesterday, too busy trying to keep the peace between his friends. "Millicent? No, wait," he knew that name. In fact, she was sitting a few seats back from him. He might have considered it. Might have been able to look past the Slytherin thing if she hadn't grabbed Hermione in a choke hold in their second year. He could forgive a lot, but not that. Not to Hermione.

Hermione on the other hand thought it was hilarious, laughing into her hand saying, "No, no, please, ask her. I bet she would be honoured."

"Stop," Harry begged. "You know she'd probably punch me or something."

"She would," Hermione sniggered. "Ask her anyway. Or, better yet, get Ron to do it."

"If she'd punch me she'd kill him." Ron was no friend of Slytherin. Somehow, he didn't know how, but somehow the hated him, but actually despised Ron. "'Sides, there's other girls in Slytherin isn't there."

"You're that desperate?" Hermione asked.

"You're the one who's always encouraging inter-house relations," Harry reminded her. "And yeah, I am. Think I'd go with Malfoy at this point if he asked." He ignored the snigger this time, thinking more about the other girls he'd never even thought of before. Yeah, there were girls in Slytherin. Less intimidating than the other schools girls too, and not all of them were in Malfoy's little gang which meant they didn't hate him. He could maybe get a date. 

"You'll find someone," Hermione consoled when she was finished laughing at him. "And if you don't, there's no shame in going on your own Harry. 

"There's every shame," he corrected, letting her jostle him about a bit.

They got top marks, as usual when partnering with Hermione, and since Herbology was next and Ron had no patience for Neville when it came to talking about plants he managed to keep nice with both sides. Ron also was better with names than Harry was. Namely because, little as he spoke about it, Ron was a pureblood, and even he kept up with pureblood gossip when it came his way. 

He wasn't too pleased with Harry's idea to go Slytherin however. "Did that dragon hit you too hard on the head? Slytherin? They'll kill you."

"Not all of them," Harry said. "I mean, Daphne's alright." He'd never spoken to her, but he'd seen her around. She was one of the quieter girls in their year, mostly keeping to herself. She hung around with Pansy, sure, but she never really did anything when it came to antagonising others. As harsh as it was to say it, Harry didn't believe she'd had much luck landing a date to the ball. Not unless Crabbe or Goyle asked her. "Tracey too. If we play it right we might be able to not look like pathetic idiots who can't get a date."

He wasn't happy, but even Ron was desperate enough to see the logic in Harry's words. "Tracey is alright," Ron said later as they finished potting a new butober. "Yeah."

With a new spring in their steps they met back up with Hermione for lunch. While there, and with no arguments breaking out, Harry scoured the hall for the Slytherin girls in question. Daphne he found with ease, twirling her fork next to Pansy and Millicent. Tracey was a little harder to spot, namely because she wasn't in the hall when Harry first looked. He found her later, walking to potions with her head buried in a book. 

Harry hung back, grabbing Ron and towing him a little away from Hermione so another tirade of treating women like pieces of meat wouldn't be told. "Who do you want?"

"What?"

"Who do you want?" Harry repeated, nodding to where the girls were waiting for Snape to open up. 

"Wait now?" Ron hissed.

"No," Harry wasn't that stupid. "After classes. We have double potions then Transfiguration. If Hermione's right," which she usually was, "then they'll be coming out of Charms. If we corner them by the lawn we can ask them without too many people around." Or, whoever was asking Tracey would. The other would have to be more creative, and Harry kind of hoped it wasn't him, he didn't have the strength to outsmart Slytherins. He couldn't even outsmart a dragon, he had no hope with a bunch of vindictive, sneaky teenage girls. "So, who do you want?"

He didn't get an answer right away. All through potions and half way through Transfiguration Harry was biting his fingernails waiting for Ron to just, "Pick someone."

"It's not that easy," Ron ground back.

"It is," Harry hissed. "It's one night, we're probably never going to speak to them again. Pick one of them."

Harry got the silent treatment the rest of class, and only when they walked out did Ron decide, "Tracey. I'm going for Tracey."

"Oh," no, that meant Harry got Daphne. "Then go. Go Ron, she'll be by the lawn any minute."

Ron ran. Fast enough that McGonagall yelled at him to walk and even then he only slowed down until he was out of her sight before sprinting again. As for Harry, with a name and no idea how to ask her, he walked the long way back to Gryffindor tower wondering just how he could separate a girl from her pack. Maybe the twins could help him.

Hermione joined him on his way out, "Where's Ron?" 

He kept his mouth shut. If she said no, Harry didn't want to be the one to embarrass Ron, again by explaining the girl that had rejected him this time. Instead he asked Hermione about her date, and whether Harry would see her at all on Christmas eve. She was still oddly tight lipped about it, but the grin on her face told Harry that she was going to have a good time, that she really was happy with whoever asked her, and if they didn't make her night as magical as Harry knew she as imagining it, he was siccing Fred and George on her date.

Dinner that night promised to be good. Or, Harry hoped it was, the day he was having had the potential to have a good dinner at the end of it. Except whatever food was going to be served became void as something exploded in front of him. More explosions, and with them shimmers of gold and silver, red and green. Harry pulled his wand out, waiting for another, yet the shimmer of colour faded at last, and when it cleared completely, Harry was looking at an entirely too smug Malfoy twirling his own wand. With an arrogant flick the chorus of first and second years Harry hadn't even notice started some song Harry had never heard before.

The tune was pleasant, he gave Malfoy that, but since he didn't know what this was all for, what the trick was, Harry kept his wand aloft and waited for some new explosion to propel in him into a new concussion. 

It didn't. Instead, the song ended with another explosion of coloured paper and Malfoy skidding onto his knees. In arms reach. So close Harry could punch faster than hiss a spell at him. Was he mad? 

"Potter," Malfoy announced far too loudly, more to the crowd around them than to Harry himself, "Harry," like they were on first name terms, "would you do me the honour of going to the Yule ball with me?"

"The-" He heard that right didn't he? He looked around, noting Hermione too was looking at Malfoy like all that incestuous blood had finally reared its insane head. Good. He had heard it. Still, it didn't make Harry anymore coherent as he wondered, "What-" not knowing how to finish whatever question his mouth had.

Malfoy wasn't as speechless, arms still outspread he reminded Harry like they were old friends, "You did say you would go if I asked you."

He did-

Oh that snake. Harry hadn't even thought to be suspicious about how quiet Malfoy had gotten in Defence. Usually he finished just as fast as Hermione, and never wasted an opportunity to pester them into losing house points. That dick had been listening to their conversation. He thought he was being funny. He'd probably been planning this ever since he decided to keep his mouth shut. It was perfect too, Harry could see how this would play out. He would say no, Malfoy would act hurt, Harry would be the bad guy and Malfoy the poor boy that had tried to do something nice for no date Harry Potter.

Or. Or Harry would say no, Malfoy would laugh and inform everyone that it looked like Harry was going to be going to the ball by himself since if he turned down his pity last resort no one else was likely to say yes. 

Either way, Harry lost, and Harry didn't want to lose. Not to Malfoy. Not this year.

"Well?" Malfoy prompted, that smug smile on his face telling Harry Malfoy was gearing up to start tearing Harry apart.

Well, jokes on Malfoy. "Sure." Malfoy's grin fell and Harry felt a surge of power he never had before. No wonder Malfoy liked picking on him if this was how he felt every time. "You know what Malfoy I'd love to go with you."

"Huh?" It wasn't even a word, just a squeak that left Malfoy's lips.

"Suppose I should start calling you Draco huh," He didn't even have to fake the grin on his face. "Hope you don't mind your feet being stepped on."

He left Malfoy there, on his knees, skirting around him and the stunned Slytherins to where the rest of the hall were sitting minding their own business. He managed to pile his plate high before Hermione and half of Ron's family were around him, staring, waiting for him to do something. He started eating, waiting to see if they would make the first move.

They didn't. 

"What?"

George leaned across the table, taking Harry's hand, "You okay mate?"

"What was on the parchment we gave you last year when you couldn't go to Hogsmeade?" Fred added on.

"Yeah and the map," Harry said quietly. "What's wrong?"

"What's wrong?" George repeated. "What's wrong is that you're going to the Yule ball with Malfoy."

"I thought you hated him," Fred said.

Hermione was looking oddly at Harry too. "Well yeah." They still looked at him funny, "He was waiting for me to say no," he explained. "God knows what he was going to do when I did."

"So you said yes?" Hermione made sure, like that too was some kind of trap.

"Well, this way he can't humiliate me." 

"And you're going to the ball with Malfoy," Hermione said. Then, like Harry still didn't understand, she took his other hand and told him, "Harry, you're going to the ball with Malfoy." And Harry didn't know what it was, how she was sitting, the way she said it or simply the shock of it all finally wearing off, but Harry got it.

"Oh fuu-" teachers, no swearing. "Oh god I'm going to the ball with Malfoy." He tugged on his neck. "Oh God. Hermione. Hermione what did I do? I'm- I'm gonna have to be seen with him. We might have to dance and- oh God, Skeeter. Skeeter Hermione. If she gets her hands on this I'm-" well, he didn't know how the wizarding world handled things like boys dating but if it were anything like muggles Harry would never be able to show his face in public again. He'd be name called the rest of his time at Hogwarts. No longer would he be the boy who lived, no, he'd be that boy you have to cover up around in case he sneaks a look.

He let out a short scream into his hands, not even thinking of how Ron was going to react when he found out. 

Ron was going to kill him, which, wasn't the worst thing right now.

He pushed his hair out of his face. This was okay. This was fine. He could sort it. Just because he said yes didn't mean he'd really said yes. Malfoy had just said it to get a rise out of him. He didn't actually mean it. Malfoy was probably going with Pansy, and if what Harry had glimpsed of Pansy throughout the years was to be believed she wouldn't let him back out of their arrangement. All Harry had to do was not bring it up again, or, maybe, let Malfoy out of their agreement without losing the upper hand.

He could do that.

Okay. He took a deep breath. That wasn't so bad. Picking his fork back up he went back to his dinner, noting the repeated looks Hermione and George shot him throughout.

He slept well that night, happy in his denial. When he woke the next morning he cornered Ron who, as Harry thought, didn't do well with Tracey. "She's going with Trevor."

"Who?" Harry asked.

"Some Ravenclaw," Ron shrugged, pulling his shoes on. "Came back here as soon as she said no. You? How'd asking Daphne go?"

"Er." He'd never actually asked her, but he knew after yesterday any shot he might have with her was gone. "I struck out."

"Tough luck," Ron consoled, grabbing his bag, "Come on I'm starving."

They wolfed down breakfast, meeting Hermione, nose stuck in a book, at the edge of Hagrid's hut for Care of Magical Creatures. Unfortunately they shared it with the Slytherins. Not usually a bad thing since, with Hagrid present, Malfoy had someone else to direct his ire onto. But, thanks to yesterday, and a night to mull things over, Malfoy made a beeline straight for Harry, smile back on his face.

"Potter," he called, for all appearances looking friendly. If this had been their first year Harry might have thought Malfoy had turned the other cheek. Unfortunately they were four years into this and Harry knew better.

"Draco." he was determined to keep the upper hand.

It worked with a small quiver in Malfoy's smile. "Harry," He corrected after a hitch. "Just thought I'd come and ask what colour you're wearing for the ball. We should match up if we're going together."

"You what?" exploded between them before Harry could even try and work out a good enough response. "Harry," Ron demanded, "What the hell is he talking about?"

Oh Ron had done it. He'd given Malfoy ammunition, something he wasn't wasting a second of. "You haven't told Weasley?" Malfoy crowed, rearing back like he was wounded, "I'm hurt. I hope I'm not going to be kept your dirty secret. Especially after all the effort I put in yesterday."

Harry was tempted to end it there and then. Malfoy didn't want this, he was just riling Harry up. But, some stronger part of Harry told him to fight back, so, grabbing Ron in case he made a lunge for Malfoy he said, "Actually I was just about to tell him. Trust me Draco, there's nothing I'd keep secret about you. Now if you excuse me I have to make sure Ron doesn't kill you before our first dance." He pushed Ron towards the empty part of the field, "And I'm wearing black," he shot back, "Goes with my hair."

There. Let Malfoy work with that.

"Harry-"

"Malfoy asked me to the ball expecting me to say no, I figure if I say yes, he's more embarrassed than I am and he'll leave me alone for a while," until he comes up with something else to pester Harry with.

"What-"

"I know, I know it's stupid but-"

"Stupid? Mate it's brilliant," Ron said. "Did you see his face?" He looked back now, to where Malfoy was still standing, cronies surrounding him, staring into the space Harry had been last. "He shut right up didn't he."

"He did," Harry agreed slowly, a grin creeping onto his face. "You should have seen him yesterday. He had this whole thing planned. There was a song and everything." He recounted it all, telling in excruciating detail the moment Malfoy realised he wasn't going to get his way.

Ron thought it was hilarious, and for the rest of the day tried to come up with ridiculous things Harry could do to further freak Malfoy out. "I say give him flowers."

"I say leave it alone," Hermione chimed, "You're only asking for trouble. You don't really want to go to the ball with him Harry. The longer you drag this out the less time you'll have to find a proper date."

Which was a fair point and, "I was going to end it today Hermione, swear it, but, he just, he gets under my skin, and for the first time I've got the upper hand. I just, I'll end it next time. Promise."

He wanted to keep that promise too. Except the next time he saw Malfoy he was asked whether Harry would be the one to bring the flower or whether Malfoy would have to splash out himself. Then there was the robes incident, Malfoy demanding to see Harry's, likely thinking Harry would tell him to piss off. He didn't, and actually fetched them, then watched for the next ten minutes as Malfoy, scowl in place, tried to find something to criticise.

After that was who was going to be walking whom to the great hall and before Harry knew it December was upon him and it was too late to find another date.

"Are you sure?" Harry checked.

"Sorry mate." Ron had managed to find a date. One of the Patil twins had been less than enthused to accept his invitation, but even they weren't stupid enough to turn down someone asking this late in the game. The other, apparently, had been swept up by one of those Durmstrang boys, which meant Harry was officially stuck with Malfoy as his date.

"How did this happen?" he asked his reflection, doing his tie again. It could be worse, he could be in Ron's robes, and while it was sorely tempting to ask Ron to switch just to see the look on Malfoy's face, he didn't. He was going to have his picture taken, and Rita was already looking for any excuse to cut Harry down. 

He flattened his tie down again. Then his hair. Then his tie, and his hair again until there was literally no salvaging it. He was sweating like nothing else, and since Ron was having his own breakdown there was no help to be found there. 

He looked at his reflection again. "A few hours," he bargained with it. "A few hours then we leave. Say we're not well. Then come back here and," well, probably cry.

Dean's alarm went off, meaning they were officially done getting ready, and one by one they filed downstairs and towards the great hall. Harry didn't see Hermione at all on the way down, he almost wished he would so she could come up with some excuse for him. She was better at it than him. But tonight Hermione was being swept off her feet, and Harry didn't begrudge her a little bit of happiness. Well, not completely. He was doing better than Ron put it that way.

The boys were all gathered first, the girls, unanimously, deciding they wanted to make an entrance, which meant that Harry got a little bit more time having a mental breakdown with Ron before all the pomp and ceremony started. He hadn't even tried to look for Malfoy. He didn't want to. Knowing Harry's luck Malfoy was waiting for Pansy. He wasn't actually going to come to the Yule ball with Harry, which meant that Harry, for all he'd hoped he wouldn't be, was here, at the ball, alone, with Rita breathing down his neck.

Oh he was sweating again.

"Ron."

They looked up together, Padma clicking her heels down the long stairs, not seeming to realise what it was Ron was wearing until she was standing in front of him, and by then it was too late. 

"Oh God," She said, her smile trying to make her words at least a little easier to swallow. "You look..."

Ron shook his head, "Don't even try."

Padma nodded, hands smoothing her skirt down pointedly. Harry watched her do it three more times before he realised Ron was actually that unobservant. "You look nice," Harry said for him, nudging Ron in the ribs.

"Yeah," Ron latched on. "Real nice. Very, colourful?"

Wrong thing to say, and if Harry didn't have only himself for company tonight he would have walked away from Ron and this train wreck right then and there. As it was he did only have himself so Harry was stuck listening to Ron try and make conversation.

He looked for Hermione again amongst the descending ball gowns, still she wasn't there. It was strange, Harry had never known Hermione to be late to a thing in her life. Usually she was desperately early. Maybe she had already been down here by the time Ron and Harry decided to venture down. 

A throat cleared behind them, McGonagall ushering Harry over to a private corner, "Nice to see you here early Potter. Now, you know your schedule I take it?"

"Schedule?"

"The champions and their dates walk in first. You're at the high table too Potter. After that you'll be leading the dancing," explaining it in a way that made it sound like she was merely reminding him rather than informing him of duties she knew he had no prior knowledge of.

"Leading?" Oh no. Oh he should have practised. How was this his life? Something struck him then, "Er, professor, what if I don't exactly, have a date?"

"No date?" McGonagall said in a way that spoke of disappointment. He didn't know it was mandatory. He was barely fourteen, he didn't even want to be here. "Well Potter if that's true then I suppose you'll have to ask one of the staff."

How was that worse?

McGonagall made sure he knew the schedule by heart before letting him go. Three trumpets she'd told him. Hopefully that would be plenty of time to beg a girl to ditch her date and dance with him. A place at the high table, maybe whatever she wanted from Honeydukes, he had something to offer.

He'd barely turned around when three trumpets sounded and Harry was looking at where McGonagall was calling for the students dwindling in the halls to go into the great hall. Maybe Harry could slip among them, hide out in the masses and escape when no one was paying any attention.

"Potter, over here," McGonagall called, motioning to where Fleur and Cedric were already waiting, their dates in tow. Cho looked nice. They all did. "Potter." 

He trudged over, trying to smooth his hair back and feeling sweat cling to both his hands and clean hair. This was possibly the worst thing that had ever happened to him, no competition. Well, there was that whole no parents thing, but, he hadn't been around for their actual deaths. In terms of things he'd lived through and remembered, this was at the top of worst things.

"Ah Krum, there you are," McGonagall ushered, "In the middle, we're going by age." Harry was put at the back, not even noticing the blue dress that floated past him. "Now, when these doors open you walk in two beats after the person in front of you. When you get to the table, you stand until the photo's are finished and Headmaster Dumbledore tells you to sit." She gave a few more compliments their way, making sure they all knew how nice they looked before disappearing inside.

The doors opened and Fleur started walking. Two beats, then Krum, another two and-

His hand was taken, Malfoy huffing next to him, "What happened to picking me up at the dungeons?"

Harry didn't care if they were mortal enemies just then he clung to Malfoy like a sloth, never so happy to see him in his life. "Oh thank god I thought I was going to have to dance with Snape."

"What- no," Malfoy brushed him off, straightening himself up quickly before taking Harry's hand and, apparently not missing his cue, starting to walk forward, dragging Harry like he was a prize dog. 

Harry may have not cared, may have just tried to put one foot in front of the other wondering if Malfoy really had been waiting for Harry at the dungeons or if he was having him on. But Malfoy, he was loving it. Every step he took he nodded to those watching them, preening under the attention and raising Harry's hand so high it looked like they were about to break into a dance there and then. He kept it held high as they reached the table, telling Harry to smile as flashes went off and Dumbledore welcomed all of them to the Yule ball.

Sitting was a blessing, Harry was sure his feet were about to give out long before now, and was glad he made it down before he found out just how much longer they would hold him for. Strangely, there weren't any laughter sent their way from the rest of the students. When Harry calmed down enough he realised no one really cared that he was sitting next to Malfoy. No one but Hermione who Harry finally noticed eyeing him next to Krum.

"You look amazing Hermione." She did. Her hair was straight, and dress flattering on her. She looked like she was living a fairy tale and loving every minute. 

"Thanks," she mouthed back, having manners enough not to shout across a table.

"Oh I see how it is," Malfoy sighed, "She gets amazing while I get likened to Snape. Where's my compliment Potter? I put effort into this you know."

"Right." Malfoy. Their date. This whole thing Harry actually didn't think he'd have to live out. "Er," He looked Malfoy over, noting that he actually did look nice. He always looked nice, but the extra effort did make him look that little bit more handsome. Still, Harry wasn't entirely familiar with how to compliment a man and ended up with, "You look pretty?"

Malfoy's eyes narrowed before turning back to his food, "I'll take it. I certainly look better than you. Did you even try and do anything with your hair?"

"Yes," Harry bit out, "It just, didn't work."

Malfoy gave him a completely unsurprised look. 

The food appeared, and with it Harry's remembered table manners. He wouldn't say he was sloppy. He'd been brought up by his aunt Petunia, as much as they both liked to deny it, so he knew how to hold a knife and fork. But it was one thing eating alone or surrounded by friends, and another to be sat at the high table, being scrutinised by Rita Skeeter and Draco Malfoy and every other person who would take note and snigger behind their hands if Harry Potter dropped his roast dinner in his lap. Malfoy ate so poshly too. Small bites, perfect posture. If this were anywhere else, if they were in Puddifoots or at the Slytherin table Harry may have played up his sloppiness, made Malfoy regret the day he even thought he could try and ask Harry Potter to a ball. But they weren't, and Harry was really hungry. 

He decided to take bites every time Malfoy wasn't looking. It was a slow, tedious process, but it was unlikely to draw attention Malfoy might have drawn if he'd noticed something off about Harry's eating habits.

Desert came and went, yet the dancing, as McGonagall came and told them would be happening in an hour, not straight away. "So you can digest," and wait for the slower eaters to finish. 

Food gone. No dancing. No escape, Harry finally turned to Malfoy, wondering what now. Malfoy seemed to realise the same thing, the two of them locking eyes before relaxing slowly, carefully, back into their seats. 

"So," Harry started, "Defence."

Malfoy snorted, "Really Potter? You want to talk school?"

"Well," he didn't really know what else to talk to Malfoy about. He couldn't exactly ask about this whole situation. To do so he might risk Malfoy pissing off in a huff.  Except, he did know something Malfoy liked. Something they both liked. "What did you think of the world cup then?"

In an instant Malfoy's grey eyes lit up, but he voice stayed steady as he said, "It was okay."

"You had good seats though. I bet you got a good look at those quidditch moves. What was the Wronksi feint like up close?"

It took some doing, but pretty soon Harry couldn't get Malfoy to shut up about quidditch. He didn't mind, he could talk for hours about it too.

Malfoy had been to more matches than Harry. More matches than Ron. "Afraid my experience is limited to Hogwarts and the cup. It was great though."

"You've missed out," Malfoy told him, and went on to explain several famous quidditch players he'd seen throughout the years. Some of the moves he explained started clicking with other things Harry had seen Malfoy do in matches. It looked like Harry wasn't the only one who tried to slip in fancy moves when they played against each other. "It would be easier to try them out if I were a chaser. A seeker doesn't get much competition when there's no snitch." Which was true.

 They had gotten civil with each other, which, of course, was when McGonagall called them down from the high table. The other students got up with them, circling them like birds of prey. Standing in front of Malfoy, Harry was reminded once again of his lack of skill at dancing. "Remember what I said about standing on your feet?"

Malfoy quirked a brow, "You weren't serious?"

"I had a bum arm!" He hissed.

"So?" They were starting to attract attention, Malfoy plastering a smile at them as he inched a little closer, "How do you not know how to dance? I was taught when I was seven."

"Well not all of us grew up with a five star education."

"It has nothing to do with education." He looked around a bit more before fluttering his hands around, "Didn't McGonagall give you lessons?"

"Yeah, but, arm, remember."

Malfoy fluttered again before Harry realised he was figuring out the best way make contact. Which meant this was happening. They were doing this.

The music started up, and as one they reached for each other, Malfoy taking charge after Harry stepping the wrong way immediately. It was easier being led than leading. He'd take all the criticism and jokes that came his way but Malfoy saved him in that moment from a headline proclaiming the boy who lived was an awful dancer.

They were forced to perform three songs before the others were allowed to join in, and, hidden among the rest of the students, Their hands dropped, both of them looking anywhere but each other. Harry cleared his throat a few times, trying to figure out what to say. Eventually he landed on, "Thanks?"

Malfoy sneered at him, "Dismissing me already Potter?"

"I mean," He gestured around, neither of them were really needed anymore. They'd had their picture taken, they'd danced, they'd remained cordial without drawing their wands and ending up at the infirmary, which, Harry was realising, could have been a good way to avoid this whole fiasco altogether. 

"Oh no Potter, I didn't get primped and preened just to be discarded three songs in. If I'm getting a howler from my father tomorrow then I'm damn well going to earn it. Now take hold of my waist and I'll teach you how to dance. God knows your future wife will thank me." Malfoy took Harry's hands before any second guessing could be had, Harry finding his fingers touching places they never thought they would.

"It's nice you think I'll make it that far in life," Harry joked, fingers flexing on Malfoy's waist. It was thicker than he thought it would be. Straight where Hermione's had been starting to curve. Really that was the only reference he had. Hugs with Ron always ended with the two of them wrapped closer than this, Harry's hands usually on Ron's back. He'd never held Ron's waist, nor Hermione's outside of their brief dance lessons in a bid to catch Harry up. 

"Dumb luck has gotten you this far in life," Malfoy said, snapping Harry back to where Malfoy was deciding which way he was going to hold Harry's hand. Right now it was just hovering around it, twisting too and fro before Malfoy eventually slid slight fingers underneath Harry's own. 

"Hardly call it dumb luck." They had callouses on them. The same Harry's had from paying his broom a bit too much attention. Usually it was the result of catching the tail end of Malfoy's practice. These days it was cabin fever from not being able to practice at all. For Malfoy to still have his this far into term meant he wasn't the only one itching to get out onto the Quidditch pitch. "Really," Harry forced out, trying not to space out, "I'd say Hermione's the main thing keeping me alive."

"Like I said, dumb luck," Malfoy reiterated. "Now step forwards and to the left afterwards."

Harry did what he was bid, eyes on his feet. "It's not dumb luck. Hermione's the-"

"Brightest witch of her age," Malfoy droned, "I know Potter. Practically everyone says it. But I still say dumb luck. How else could you explain how you became friends?"

"Because I'm nice?" Harry posed.

Malfoy snorted, "Hardly. Spin." he spun, taking hold of Malfoy's waist when he was back in Harry's reach again. "You may not recall first year all too well, but I remember two boys who wouldn't look twice at Granger until Halloween. It was dumb luck and a troll that brought you together, don't pretend otherwise."

He wanted to argue but, somehow, Malfoy kind of did have a point. It was kindness that helped them stay friends, but, in the beginning, it truly had been dumb luck and a troll that brought the three of them together. 

"Lift."

"What?" He gauged Malfoy carefully.

"Lift, Malfoy repeated again like Harry was hard of hearing. "Pick me up and put me a quatre turn to your left."

"I heard you." He wasn't too sure he could lift Malfoy. He wasn't exactly heavy looking, but there was still more weight on him than Harry and still recovering from round two of Dudley's summer diet meant he wasn't quite sure he'd be hexed if he really did lift Malfoy up and dropped him. "I don't think I can."

Malfoy's brow quirked again, "Oh, something you can't do huh?"

He bit his tongue from anything too scathing, they were being civil tonight after all, so "Yup," was the only thing he allowed himself to say.

Malfoy didn't like when Harry agreed with him, he could tell from the simple set in his brow. It didn't sit right with him, or Harry for that matter, but peace required sacrifice so Malfoy too bit his tongue from riling Harry further and told him to spin him again.

Instructions came and Malfoy's foot was tread on so much Harry got his own stomped on next time, but they were civil, quiet, and still dancing when the music changed to something more loose than classic ballroom. It was some kind of wizard band, obviously, and famous enough to garner interest from Malfoy if the way he got excited when they replaced the old orchestra with magic guitars and drums.

Couples got lost and became groups as the singing started, most of the students, pure, half and muggle borns alike chanting along so much Harry was starting to think he'd been left out of some great bit of wizarding culture. He even caught Hermione singing along to one of their songs, although, Hermione made sure she was never left out so, really, she wasn't the best example to draw from.

"You can go," Harry said, seeing Malfoy inching that little bit closer to where everyone had bunched up. "I release you from your date. I'm sure your friends are somewhere near the front."

Malfoy moved an inch more before sidling back to Harry's side, "We're on a date," he seemed to be telling himself more than Harry. 

"You obviously like them," Harry said, "Just go."

"Could you stop trying to get rid of me," Malfoy huffed, "Honestly it's like you don't even like me." They both bit back smiles and more at that comment. "'Sides, I can enjoy them just as well back here. Maybe even more so. Don't know about you but I don't prefer being suffocated to have fun."

Harry appraised him. "You're really sticking this out huh?"

"I asked you out didn't I? Can't exactly take back my words." Well he could but, pride and their need to be better than the other overrode that.

"Yeah, you did," Harry realised as well. "And here's me doing most of the work." He didn't see Malfoy trying to make conversation.

"Most of it?" Malfoy reared. "Who exactly stopped you from looking like an idiot tonight?"

"Dunno. Ron?" He didn't know how to explain it but, somehow the argument between them wasn't really an argument. It felt more like when he talked with Ron, when they were kidding around with each other, but there was still that undercurrent of something else there with Malfoy. Something Harry had never heard before. He didn't hate it, and when Malfoy took Harry's hand and directed it to his waist again, Harry didn't hate that either. 

They swayed for a while, Malfoy's eyes getting more and more glazed as he focused on the song that was playing. On one particular song, one Harry gathered was a bit of a favourite, there was a bit more rhythm to Malfoy's hips. It would have made Harry laugh if he knew that wouldn't have ended with the pair of them causing a scene.

The music slowed down a bit as the band switched over for a quick water break. Harry's feet were starting to hurt, but he wasn't calling it quits until Malfoy did, and from the looks of things Malfoy wanted to hear their next set of songs. It was a shame. Harry had seen Ron retreat out of the great hall, alone, some time ago. No doubt he was in bed right now, shoes off, robes gone, lounging around not thinking about how even if both of them were sweating like crazy Malfoy still smelled nice. How? He had to be going through puberty like the rest of them. No one smelled like daisies all the time. It had to be a spell.

"What's your mother like?" Harry found himself asking after spending too long trying to figure out if Malfoy used gel or a spell to keep his hair from frizzing in this mob induced heat.

"My mother?" Like the mere notion was offensive to him. "Why do you want to know about my mother?"

Harry shrugged, "I've never seen her." Which was true. Usually it was just Lucius that Harry saw lingering around when they were outside of Hogwarts. "Just wondered what she was like." If she treat Malfoy the same way Lucius did, with that cold tone just daring Draco to step out of place. Harry hated that tone, Vernon used it often.

"She's... my mother," Draco forced out, treading lightly. "I don't really know what else there is to say."

"Well," Harry mulled over, he didn't really know what he wanted to know about her either, "What does she look like?"

"She's," that stilting tone again, "Blonde."

"Like you? Or like Lavender Brown?" He still wasn't sure how Malfoy's hair was a real colour. It was most certainly blond, but any blonder and it would be white. It wasn't a colour Harry ordinarily saw on people. Not as young as Malfoy anyway.

Malfoy didn't even try to pretend he didn't know who Lavender was. "Like me," He said at last.

Harry nodded, getting at least a little picture of what she might look like. Malfoy must look like her. From afar Harry would say he took after Lucius, but, there was something distinctly different about his face, softer in some places and more angular in others that actually reminded Harry a little of Sirius. "Does she like Quidditch?" He hadn't seen her at the world cup. Harry always wondered if his own mother had been alive whether she would have sent him off with his dad when it came to Quidditch, or if she liked it too. They could have had games when Harry was younger, maybe Sirius coming over to even out the teams.

Malfoy gave another slight shrug, "She likes it. She thought the wold cup was rigged."

"I didn't see her." 

To that Malfoy rolled his eyes, "She went a little earlier to try and get some money off a man that handed her leprechaun gold the last time we saw the Irish play."

"Did she get it?" God knows Harry didn't get his back.

Malfoy snorted, "'Course she did. No one with half a brain crosses my mother."

Formidable then, Harry added to the list. So, blonde, scary, and looking a little like Malfoy, a good combination for a pureblood in Harry's opinion. 

The beat picked back up again, and with it the conversation dropping until Harry just had to focus on moving his feet one in front of the other. 

If Harry's feet hurt before they were on fire by the time the music died down again. The crowd had thinned out, although some of them appeared again led by teachers. Mostly it was the upper years, but Harry saw some of his classmates go off as well. He wondered if getting a drink would constitute as a break. Even thinking about the long walk to the drink table and back had his feet hurting so probably not. Malfoy didn't seem that out of sorts, although, Malfoy probably did this all the time, attending fancy pureblood parties where witches and wizards talked about how stupid muggles were or something. 

He eyed the drinks table again. He was pretty sure he could handle another half hour so long as he got a drink. Just so his throat wasn't screaming at him too. 

Then Harry heard screaming. Not the kind where people were in danger and maybe he would be able to run back to the dormitory early. No, this kind of screaming was something he'd had to put up with ever since the prospect of the Yule ball came up. 

"- next time pluck up the courage and ask me yourself!" Hermione screeched, Harry hearing her heels clip clop towards the stairs.

He chanced a look back, seeing Ron standing, dateless, staring after her. 

"Suppose you'll be chasing after them," Malfoy noted.

Harry looked back again to see Ron storming off now too. Harry had been sure he'd walked off earlier. Had Ron came back down just for a fight? Harry sighed, he didn't care, he really didn't care. Tightening his hands slightly, he realised he had the best excuse to give to both of them later when they asked why he didn't follow after them. No need to be called a traitor by the other party either. "Nah, I'm here with you aren't I."

"Really?" Malfoy drawled, "You're staying here?"

"Better than being yelled at all night." It really was. He loved his friends but at this point he really would take Malfoy over them. He'd give it half an hour before trying to weasel out of staying longer. It should be enough time for Ron to calm down and or pass out.

He suffered a few more twirls before desperately making a pilgrimage to the drinks table. Malfoy was waiting expectantly when Harry returned, desperately thirsty too since he didn't even ask if Harry had tampered with it before downing it in one. 

More people went off, and more teachers came back with students hanging their head.

"What do you think they're doing?" He nodded to Ginny and Dean who were bypassing a solo Neville.

Malfoy watched them go before giving Harry a scathing look, "Seriously Potter? You need to be told they're snogging?"

Oh, right, yeah, that was a thing people did. He wasn't going to tell Malfoy he didn't realise that however as he geared up, posing instead, "I meant, where do you think they're going, they can't be going anywhere good if they keep getting caught."

"Well," Malfoy floundered for a bit, "Probably the carriages? They're secluded aren't they."

"I guess."

Two more students were brought in, their clothes a bit more rumpled than others. They were getting a bit more thorough telling off than Harry had seen before. He thought for a moment because they were from different schools, but, Malfoy said, probably to get a rise, "They've probably had sex. You know what sex is Potter?"

"Yes. Probably more than you," he bit out. He did. They'd all had the talk from McGonagall the year before. Then there were the twins. Harry may only know the basics right now, but the more time he spent with those two the more he learned that sex wasn't just slot a in slot b. He wondered if Malfoy had a friend like that, one that had all the adult knowledge they desperately wanted to know. Maybe that was why he was turning a bit pink in the cheeks. Still, he didn't really want to get into it. Not with Malfoy of all people, so he sacrificed his pride and probably weeks of teasing to come to ask "Can we change the subject?" getting that usual Malfoy smirk in response.

"Alright," Malfoy consoled, "Just so I don't offend you sensibilities with talk of... you know," like Malfoy wasn't embarrassed to say anything sex related himself. "How about you recount one of your heroic acts since you don't enjoy any subjects I bring up."

"Don't start," Harry warned.

"Why not? Come on, tell me. What was it like battling a dragon? Tell me in excruciating detail," Malfoy jibed.

He was tired of this. "I'm done for the night."

"What?"

"I'm done. Thanks for escorting me. I appreciated it, really," he meant that part too. "But I'm tired, my feet hurt, and if I stay around you any longer we're both going to end up pulling out our wands."

There was a tinge of something on Malfoy's face, covering itself up faster and faster with that usual sneer as he said, "On the first date Potter? I thought I pegged you as a gentleman."

"Shut up." He felt his cheeks get red anyway. He hated puberty. Why did everything always get twisted into something dirty? "I'm going. Night." Hopefully tomorrow order would be restored and Harry could look at Malfoy and hex him into oblivion. Or avoid him altogether in the common room watching Ron parade ghosts of christmas jumpers past and present.

Naturally, because his life was never simple, he didn't shake Malfoy off just like that. Instead, about halfway up, his arm was taken and Malfoy's stupid blond hair came into his field of vision again. "Date protocol," Malfoy grinned, falling back into that game.

Fine, Harry could play it again. After all, the date officially ended when they both parted, properly, which would happen as soon as Harry disappeared into the common room. So he let Malfoy walk him up, and ignored his want to fill the awkward silence between them with something. 

The stairs seemed to take an age. Harry would have put it down to the company he was keeping had he not felt his feet burning with every agonising step he took. He would not be getting out of bed tomorrow.

Gyriffindor tower loomed at last with one last groan from Harry's legs. He felt quite proud of himself for making it up, and he was dutifully ignoring the fact he still had more stairs to go up once he crawled through the portrait hole. Maybe he could sleep in the common room. It certainly had no Ron waiting to complain at him.

He glanced at Malfoy, finding the boy studying the corridor around him, likely looking for the hidden entrance. "Well," he shooed a little, "Thanks. Night."

"Night?" Malfoy repeated, scoffing, his feet certainly not hurting as he scuffed them closer to Harry. "Some date you are. What? No goodnight kiss? All that talk about wands I thought you would be feeling a little frisky."

"You want a kiss?" he wasn't serious. Surely Malfoy was joking.

Yet, joke or not, Malfoy turned his cheek Harry's way. "Unless you're really that bad of a kisser?"

Harry had two options here. First, he could tell Malfoy to piss off and retreat to bed like he sorely wanted to. If he did that, Malfoy would probably make up some lie or spend all of Christmas finding excuses to be in Harry's space and taunt him with the exact same thing he was doing now.

Or, option two. He called Malfoy's he thing that had gotten him into this situation in the first place.

The question was, whether Harry was willing to give up his first kiss to a git like Malfoy.

Turned out he was.

Ignoring the offered cheek, figuring he would just go for it, he slotted his lips to Malfoy's, holding on when Malfoy reared back in shock.  Malfoy's hair was as soft as it looked, even gelled back like it was. Digging his nails in, he made sure Malfoy got the message, that Harry wasn't going to be intimidated before pulling back.

The problem, as it always was with Malfoy, was that he was almost always able to match Harry move for move. Harry was willing to say yes to a date the Malfoy was going to show up to it. Harry called his bluff, Malfoy needed to show he wasn't afraid of Harry either, resulting in Harry, this time pushed onto his toes as Malfoy spotted their lips back together.

Harry didn't know what it was, the spirit of competition, the pure emotion running rampant in his veins these days or just puberty messing with him again but suddenly he wasn't thinking about how long this was lasting or what he could do next to put Malfoy off guard. This time all he could feel and think was that Malfoy had really soft lips, and kissing was far nicer than he thought it would be.

Their heads slanted that little bit more to the side, the new angle letting Harry feel more of Malfoy. There was a huff, and in that huff Malfoy's lips parted enough that a whole new realm of kissing was discovered. He hadn't any illusions that Malfoy had done this before. Just the fact he was stiffening along with Harry, both of them carefully feeling out this new angle, this new slide of lips against lips told Harry that for all his talk Malfoy was just that, talk.

They inched closer to each other, Harry's hands losing their vice like grip, one of them going back to Malfoy's hair while the other rested gently on his waist, much like they were dancing again. While half his brain was trying to breathe and kiss at the same time, the other was focused on rubbing the gel out of Malfoy's hair. It was inhumanely soft under all that gunk, and the few times Harry had seen him without his hair plastered to his head even he had to admit Malfoy was handsome. He got a good portion of the back either sticking up or gel free by the time his brain found something new to focus on. That being Malfoy's hand creeping around Harry's waist.

He heard himself let out a short whimper as it came to rest on the small of his back. If it weren't for the fact Malfoy was sounding much the same Harry would have worried that whimper would come to bite him in the back later. That and he didn't really care. Not when Malfoy had a firm grip on him, a few of his fingers teasing the edge of Harry's pants. There were robes in the way, sure, but they may as well not have been for all Harry could feel every little dip in Malfoy's hand. 

He clenched his own on Malfoy's waist, bringing them that little bit closer again, not a good idea looking back at things. Then again, all of this was a bad idea.

The problem was, with Harry fixating on how close Malfoy's hand was to his butt, and the heat of him from Harry's front, the kiss, the noises, the fact he was fourteen, it all rushed upon him at once until he knew if his robes weren't in the way he'd have a tent on display. Panic replaced passion, Harry trying to remember every bit of advice he'd heard from Seamus and the twins to make himself soft again. Think of something awful they always said. Malfoy was the first thing to come to mind, but, well Malfoy was the reason he was hard in the first place, and not even thinking that in a context that would usually have Harry shivering in disgust worked as Harry found himself hardening even more. 

So, there was that revelation. 

Something he could consider at a later date when he wasn't trying to find a way to weasel out of snogging Malfoy. Was it bad he didn't completely want to go?

The panic made his hand clench again, and before Harry could even think Snape Malfoy was there, touching him, front to front, and rearing back like he'd just been shocked. They were both breathing hard, Malfoy's face completely pink and hair sticking up from where Harry had been tormenting it. He could feel Malfoy's eyes darting down the moment Harry's did, both of them coming to the conclusion that, yes, they were hard, and yes, it was because of the other. 

He wiped his mouth, not really knowing what to say. Did they brush it off? Did he get another snog in? 

"Erm," Malfoy squeaked, the break in the silence snapping both of them into turning in a way that certainly didn't hide what they knew the other was sporting. "Well, you must be tired. All that attention and..."

"Yeah," Harry agreed when Malfoy didn't go on. "You too. This was er... nice?"

"Hmm," Malfoy nodded, the pair of them giving each other one last look before turning away. "Don't speak about it?"

"Nope," Harry agreed. 

They walked away, Harry racing back to his room and shutting his curtains. After kicking his shoes off, instead of spending all night thinking about the first kiss he'd gave to Malfoy, Harry passed out. He passed out until well into the next day.

It was Hedwig that woke him. Her and Ron whispering none too quietly to keep the noise down and, "If I let you out will you stop sqwarking?"

Christmas. 

Presents.

Dragging himself out of bed, he gave Ron the most pathetic good morning either of them had ever given, and went to investigate if Sirius had written him a letter or not. 

He had.

It was a howler too, and while Harry did enjoy learning that the resemblance of Malfoy to Sirius was because they were related on Malfoy's mother's side, he couldn't help sitting there wondering if Malfoy thought his own howler worth it. It wasn't that bad of a date after all. 

At least, Harry didn't think so.

**Author's Note:**

> Literally need a break from my other work so i decided to write this.


End file.
